


problem seeking behaviour

by troubleseeker



Series: kinktober 2018 [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Boot Worship, Bottom Sam Winchester, Boyfriends, Brat Sam Winchester, Breathplay, Dom Castiel, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, Drunk Sex, Edging, M/M, Sibling Incest, Stanford Era, Sub Sam Winchester, Switch Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Top Dean Winchester, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism, if you're in the US
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 22:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16649341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubleseeker/pseuds/troubleseeker
Summary: kinktober day 25 - Tickling | Scat |Boot Worship |Olfactophilia (Scent)Sam swore he'd just be out for study group, but when he's still not home hours later Dean goes out to investigate. Turns out Sam's at a frat party! Dean gets him out, but Sam needs to be taught a few lessons in telling the truth. No relationship can work if either party is lying, right? Luckily, Cas has been teaching the boys the ways of bdsm while they stay at his house, so Dean has a few ideas on how to set Sam right.(Sam is semi drunk, but everything is consensual)





	problem seeking behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> When Sam left for Stanford, Dean went with him. Hustling pool only gives you so much cash, so Dean took to breaking into a house or two to get some extra money. One of those houses was Castiel's, who happened to be an ex-hunter, and very much at home. After a brief chase, Cas decides that te two kids need a place to stay and a guiding hand more than they need jailtime.

Dean wondered how long it would take Sam’s steadily drunker ass to notice him. The kid was taking  _ another _ shot, and while it was only the fourth one he’d seen him throw back so far Sam had been at this stupid frat house, and its stupid party for a  _ stupid  _ amount of time. 

He didn’t know how long he’d stared at the clock, waiting. Hoping Sam had just gotten his nerdy ass lost in some study book. In the end, he’d given up staring, and tracked his brother down.

Turns out there hadn’t been a study group.

Fuming, he glared at the clearly underage kids laughing and drinking. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong. Not that he cared that they were drinking booze before the arbitrary age of twenty-one, he cared that they had no idea how to handle themselves while drunk.

Parties like this. Kids in their first year in college letting loose with older students pushing them further than they could handle … it was bound to go south. Fights. Drugs. Guys who didn’t want to hear no when their dick said yes.  _ Something _ .

He looked at the open door again, then back through the ground floor window. God he wanted to charge in there.

Be as it may, he had no real reason to storm in and grab the lying little liar by his lying little ear and drag his lying ass out of the house.

No one here knew they were brothers, and what kind of boyfriend got mad at his boyfriend for having some fun while he was in college? Not a good one. 

So Dean fucking Winchester, ex-monster hunter extraordinaire, was stuck standing outside a window like a fucking creep. 

The good thing was, the longer he stood here the longer he had to plan exactly how he’d make Sam beg for mercy. Problem seeking behaviour, Cas had called it … and if Sam was looking for problems, well he was sure as hell gonna get them.

Keeping one eye on Sam, Dean frowned at a small group of kids further back in the house. Fuck letting Sam catch sight of him. Three guys and one scared looking girl.

He flipped open his phone, dialing 911.

“Yeah, hi. I was walking my dog home, and there’s a party going on in a house nearby. I think there might be minors drinking? Yes, it’s quite loud, and I think I heard a girl scream but I’m not sure. I didn’t want to call attention to myself. Mhmm.” 

Keeping his voice deeper than normal, Dean rattled off the address, thanked the operator, and flipped his phone shut again.

It wouldn’t take the police long to get here. All he had to do now, was wait. 

None of the boozed up twits noticed the cops pulling up. Three cars was probably overkill but guests at these kinds of parties had a habit of scattering. Cops had to work quick if they wanted to round up as many minors as possible. 

The kitchen window slid open smooth as butter, and dean crawled through just as he heard the cops announce their presence. Two kids bolted for the back door past him, but Dean had one fucking target.

He grabbed Sam by the arm. The kid was standing exactly here Dean had last seen him; conflicted and confused. On one hand he’d been trained to run from cops. On the other, he wanted to leave all that behind and start a regular old life which meant  _ listening _ to the police like a good boy.

“Come on, Sammy. Run.”

Already confused by the flashing lights and shouting drunk idiots, Sam didn’t question his big brother showing up out of the blue to rescue his stupid drunk, but still delightfully tight ass. He just nodded, and followed Dean out the kitchen window. No way was he going to walk right into the hands of the cops who’d circled around the back. 

They were pretty much home when the cogs in Sam’s big fancy brain finally started turning again. Alcohol really  _ did  _ kill off brain cells.

“Wait. How’d’you even find me?”

Dean grabbed hold of Sam’s arm, tugging him onward from where he’d stumbled to a halt.

“I’m not an idiot, Sammy. Once it’s an hour past your supposed  _ study group _ ,” Dean made air-quotes with one hand, wasn’t letting Sam run off. “I’m going to go looking. Good thing I showed up when I did, or I’d be picking you up from fucking jail.”

Limbs still too uncoordinated with alcohol to fight more coherently than a shaking his arm, Sam settled for swearing. He petered off when Cas’s front door loomed in front of them.

“I had my fake with me, Dean. Not that stupid.”

Door unlocked, Dean shoved his little brother into the living room.

“Like the cops wouldn’t spot a fake when they’re checking them at a frat party.”

The lamp in the corner flicked on, illuminating Cas sitting in his armchair like he was in a movie or something.

“Are you drunk, Sam?”

The kid rolled his eyes, making a big show of touching his index fingers to his nose only to swear and stumble to the floor when Dean shoved him, hard, on his way to lower the blinds and draw the curtains.

“Coherent enough to be a brat, I see.”

Sam groaned theatrically. 

“I’m  _ fine. _ I  _ was  _ fine too, when you showed up.”

“Your brother and I were very worried, Sam, when you didn’t come home. We all know what’s out there. Why did you lie?”

The kid had the decency to look sheepish, breathing deeper and less offended as he sat down on the coffee table.

“I really did go study. Just Brady said there was a party, and that I should come.”

“You should have let us know. This relationship is built on trust, Sam. You can’t go around breaking that trust and expecting us to be thrilled.”

Sam nodded, but Dean didn’t miss that he wasn’t saying sorry.

“I let you and your brother into my home, Sam. I chose to take you in rather than call the cops. I took a chance with you, and you’re throwing the opportunities I’ve given you back in my face by doing this.”

Dean stepped up close. The coffee table was in the way, but he was boxing the idiot in anyway. 

“My house, my rules.” Cas nodded at Dean.

“Strip.” Dean commanded, trying to keep his voice level and 

Sam rubbed at his face, looking back at Dean and then at Cas again.

“C’mon, Cas. It’s late. Can’t we do this in the morning?”

Cas leaned back in his chair, arms folded loosely.

“You broke the rules, you’re not the one who gets to dictate the consequences, Sam. I don’t let arguments or punishments lie in wait. Lessons need to be learned. Strip.”

Grumbling like an old chainsaw, Sam pulled at his clothes. Jacket, sweater, shirt, belt, shoes, socks, jeans.

“Everything.” Dean told him, and Sam frowned; looking between Cas and Dean.

“Listen to your brother, Sam. He’s the one that had to worry about your safety. The one who sat and waited for you to come home like a good boy.”

Shame starting to show through the anger. Sam shimmied out of his boxer briefs, stuffing the small bundle of cloth in the middle of the pile of clothes.

“Now what? You tell me to lie across your lap and spank me? I’m not five.”

Dean shoved  at Sam’s shoulder again, and the kid took the hint and sat down on the table again.

“Tempting. But no.”  Dean left Sam’s side for a second to retrieve the sawed off broomstick Cas used as a DIY spreader bar. He’d screwed eye-hooks into the ends and it worked well, even if it wasn’t shiny chrome. “You’d like that too much.”

The brat in Sam shone through, fueled by cheap alcohol and free shots.

“I like everything you do to me.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, daring Sam to continue the lip. 

“Arms at your side.”

“ _ Wow _ . Kinky.”

More  _ fucking lip _ , but the kid did as he’d been told. Arms loose at his side so Dean could slip the rod in between them and his back. A bit of ropework, and Sam’s hands were bound together in front of him - not touching, more t-rexing at the side of his chest - and his elbows had rope connecting them too. It left Sam’s arms pretty much useless. If he wanted to pick something up, he’d have to turn his entire torso towards it. 

No way of reaching his dick either.

Just to be sure of that last one, Dean fashioned a quick rope collar and tied it to the broomhandle as well. Sam couldn’t pull his arms down, and any attempts would have him choking.

Dean wet his lips, looking to Cas for confirmation. He was still learning after all.

Just a nod, but it gave him the confidence he needed to keep going. Adjusting himself, he tested all the rope for twists, making sure he wasn’t cutting off circulation anywhere. 

“That kinky enough for ya?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam flapped his hands around in a very non-sexy way. 

“Fucking brat!” Dean grabbed his brother’s dick, relishing the gasp it drew from him. “You’re hard enough.”

“Dean.”

Dean licked his lips, backing away and regaining his composure. Cas was teaching them both so much, but being the dom was still so fucking hard. He loved being in charge from time to time, but not letting Sam get to him was exhausting. 

Instead of letting Sam  _ win _ \- and earning himself a one way trip to Cas’s lap  - he breathed deep. 

“Get on your knees, Sam.”

Seeing that he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted, Sam wriggled off the coffee table and onto his knees.

“Now what? Gonna have me suck you off, Dean? Make me choke on your dick till I’m  _ really  _ sorry?”

Dean’s dick throbbed where it was still tucked away in his jeans. Sam had a way to make him want to change his mind. He looked gorgeous when he was crying around a dick. But no, he resisted. Sinking down into the other armchair instead.

“You know what I’d planned to do instead of waiting for you?”

“No, Dean.” Sam huff What had your righteous ass planned instead of spying on me?”

Dean glared.

“I was gonna clean my boots, Sam. Get them nice and shiny.” He stretched out his legs, wiggling his booted feet as emphasis. “And instead I got to get them even dirtier climbing through windows.”

Sam rolled his eyes in that way that involved his entire body, the motion accentuated in his drunken state. 

“So now you’re going to clean them for me.”

Sam wiggled his fingers. “Kinda tied up here. Might need a  _ hand _ .”

“You’re going to give them a spit shine, Sammy. Get to it.”

Sam stared for a good long while. Long enough that Dean wanted to look away from his bratty brother to check in with Cas.

The only reason he didn’t, was that Sam was still hard. Punishment or not, he wasn’t about to make Sam do something he didn’t want to. 

“Gonna have to get closer, Sammy. Come on, here boy.”

Sam tried to go for his murder eyes, but he failed, and Dean could pretty much taste victory as Sam inched closer. 

“Good boy. See? You can be a good boy.”

“Fuck you, D’n.” Sam kept his eyes down; trained on Dean’s boots.

“Head down, Sammy. Better start using that tongue to apologize, or am I going to have to get a flogger out first?”

The kid grumbled a bit, but Dean knew he’d won. Sam was balancing himself, leaning forward, sticking out his agile tongue. 

The first contact of tongue to leather was soft enough that Dean couldn’t  _ feel _ it, but his heart skipped a beat or two as he watched it happen. 

One lick turned into two, then three, and Dean could see the dark leather turn darker as Sam grew more confident. It sucked him right in. The light raps of Sam’s tongue loud in the silence of the room, Dean leaned forward a bit to better watch. 

Sam had to move nonstop to maintain his balance, arms imobile but trying to reach, and God it was hot. Sam was focussed. 

“Don’t forget the other foot.” Cas rumbled from far away, and Sam didn’t bother closing his mouth as he leaned over to lick at Dean’s right boot; a  thin string of spit connecting both feet for half a second. 

“Good boy.” Dean choked out. His dick was doing its very best to crawl out of his jeans, and Dean helped it a bit. Button and zipper out of the way, he leaned back and stroked himself;  _ finally _ .

Bowlegs stretched out with Sam at the end like a slutty pot of gold, and whatever had held Sam back at the start was gone. Hazel eyes were peeking up at his brother from under messy bangs, and Dean had to grip himself at the root to stop this from ending too soon. 

“Fuck, Sam, you look good like this.”

His brother grinned up at him, making a show of licking his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of each boot before going back to delicately polishing the spit soaked leather. 

“Yeah. Get’em nice and clean. Use that tongue for something better than mouthing off.”

It was a risky bit of dirty-talk. It depended entirely on how deep Sam had sunk into his headspace whether you got more bratty lip, or a desire to be even better. Luckily - for Sam’s ass, of course - Sam whimpered and tried to fit the whole toe of the left shoe in his mouth. 

“Not just the tip, Sammy. Get them all clean, boy. Good.” Dean crooned, voice going deeper as he watched, and stroked. 

Sam shuffled closer, nuzzling Dean’s feet further apart to fit his shaggy head in between them to lick at the side. When he looked up again, tongue sliding tantalizingly close to Dean’s ankle. It was hidden away under socks, but he had to let go of his dick all together before he came like some Victorian dude imagaining a flash of leg.

“Good boy, Sammy. Good boy. Fuck.”

The way Sam sank down into what Cas called subspace was amazing. Way more intense now than the short ‘sessions’ they’d had while they were still living out of motel rooms with dad. Who would have ever guessed getting caught breaking into an ex-hunter’s house while looking for some quick cash would have led to  _ this _ .

“Shit! Baby.” 

Dean’s dick twitched helplessly where it lay untouched on his thigh. Now way was he stroking himself now. He  _ knew _ what the pink tongue felt like. On his dick, on his fingers. Seeing it flick across his boots was nearly too much. 

Sam was literally at his feet; kissing them. Trying to reach his toes through tough leather and steel, and Dean could imagine it all too well. The submission and the gentle pressure as Sam pressed down. 

It shouldn’t be this hot, but it was.

“Sit up, Sam.” Glazed eyes looked up at him in sad confusion. “Show me how much you’re liking this. Wanna see your dick Sam. Show me.”

The kid would probably been more coordinated sober. Subspace, alcohol, and bondage making him struggle to kneel up. Sam was breathing harder, dick bobbing up and down softly with the movement. 

Dean reached out to wipe some of the spit off of Sam’s chin. It had dripped down onto his chest, and he smeared the mess open a bit. 

“Look at that. You’re drooling at both ends, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t respond, instead whimpering when Dean dragged a finger across the slick head of his dick.

“Open wide.”

Sam stuck out his tongue, eyes rolling back with a groan when Dean smeared the pre-come onto it. Didn’t close his mouth to swallow when the fingers retreated, long string of drool sticking to the slick smear on his chest as he breathed deep and fast. 

“You like being at my feet, Sammy?”

Sam nodded, often going mute when he was deep. The string of spit grew longer, heavier, and Dean watched with fascination as it slipped lower and lower; heading for Sam’s red dick.

“Yeah you do, fucking slutty little brother, aren’t you?”

More nodding, and the string of spit found its home. Dean gave it a helping hand, stroking Sam’s dick root to tip to get it all nice and wet.

“So fucking hot, sam. So, so fucking hot. You see how horny you’re making me?”

Hand still slick with sam’s spit and precome, he gave his own dick a couple of satisfying slow strokes. Sam’s eyes were glued to it, whining like a hungry mut. 

“No way, Sammy. You’re not getting this till you’re all done apologising.”

Hand in Sam’s hair, he guided his little brother back down to his boots. Instead of letting Sam decide where he licked, Dean moved him around himself. Looking up to find Cas casually wanking to the scene. Not unaffected - he wouldn't have his dick out if he didn’t care - but not quite as far gone as Dean. 

He turned his attention back to Sam, dragging Sam’s head where he wanted it. The rougher he got, the more Sam moaned. 

Unable to help himself, Dean pulled Sam up to kiss him. Plundering his unresisting mouth and near dragging the kid into his lap. Only when he pulled back to look at Sam’s drugged eyes did he realise just where his foot was now. Pivoting it up on his heel, the toe of his boot fit perfectly against Sam’s taint, and the kid froze. 

Thin, quick little breaths as Dean moved his foot around. 

“Think I might have found you a shiny new fetish, Sammy.” 

Pulling hard on the kid’s hair, he made him arch back far enough to get a look at how his boot pressed in between Sam’s legs. How it forced Sam’s balls and dick up, he wriggled the foot around and Sam whimpered. Not a scared whimper. Not even the whimpers of anticipation he made when he waited for Cas to fuck him. 

A _happy_ whimper. 

The kind of sound you got when you wrung out his orgasm and it felt so good it nearly hurt. 

“Yeah, you love this. You fucking  _ love _ it.” 

Dean dragged Sam back in, and he needed both of his hands to hold Sam’s face still because Sam jolted like he’d touched a live wire when Dean dragged his boot up over his needy dick. 

“Fucking slut for this. Yeah?” 

Dean pulled back to whisper into Sam’s ear, foot moving down again. 

“Yeah, you’re a slut for this. Should have you on your knees licking my boots every day.”

Sam whined, hiding his face in Dean’s neck.

“Have you clean off the day’s dust every time we get home from class. Maybe fuck you while you get on your knees for Cas too.”

Sam’s moan was echoed by a soft gasp from Cas.

“No boots, but I bet your tongue would look just as good on his nice leather shoes.”

“Please. Please, Dean. God. Let me come, I wanna.”

Dean could feel his brother’s hips moving. Jerky little thrusts that could never provide enough friction as Dean moved his foot.

“Oh I don’t know.”

Sam whimpered, lithe tongue licking at Dean’s throat and sweet lips planting kisses on wet skin.

“Fuck, please, Dean. Please. I’ll be good. Be better. M’sorry.”

Dean used his hold on Sam’s hair to pull him back, away. Pushed him to sit back on his heels; foot still toying with Sam’s poor dick and balls.

Sam’s mouth was wrecked. Lips flushed and plump under glassy eyes. 

“I dunno, Samshine. You did make me very, very worried.”

Sam squirmed, dick wagging around like an eager puppy, eyes flitting back and forth between Dean’s feet, eyes, and cock. 

“And then you were a  _ very _ mouthy brat. After all I did to help you.”

The kid whimpered, sad and manic. Dean was pretty sure that Sam would be licking his feet again if he didn’t have one planted firmly on his dick.

“Why should I let you come first when Cas and I have been waiting up all night for you?”

Sam’s big ass brain whirred, and Dean knew the kid would figure out the loophole soon enough. Pupils blow, Sam’s eyes fell to Dean’s hand and the dick inside of its loose hold. He licked his lips.

“Suck me off, Sammy. Wanny see you choke on my dick till you’re crying.”

Sam near fell over his own knees in his hurry to get his mouth on his big brother’s dick. Plenty wet, is slid right down his well trained throat.

God it felt good.

Dean’s hands found Sam’s hair, guiding his movements deeper, longer; holding him still as he thrust up a couple of times to feel his brother’s gag-reflex clench around him. He dragged Sam off of him, wet slurp followed by frantic whimpers; he could see Sam’s hands reach ineffectually. 

“I know. I know. You’ll get it back. Shhhh, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes were already tearing up, as he stared up at Dean.

“You wanna come too right?”

“Fuck yes, please, please I do.” Sam slurred, tongue out and reaching for Dean’s dick.

“You know how you got by boots all nice and clean, Sammy?”

“Mhm.”

Dean got real close, whispering into Sam’s ear.

“Want you to make em all dirty again.”

It wasn’t a full command, but Dean didn’t bother explaining any further. He needed Sam’s mouth back on him five minutes ago. 

Not that it took Sam long to catch on. Mouth open and pliant, he let Dean use his head like a good boy, guiding his hips to grind down against Dean’s leg; his boots. 

Dean came first. Deep down Sam’s throat, and cursing up a storm. There were few things he loved more than Sam’s mouth. Maybe his ass. 

There was just  _ something _ about feeling your cock empty itself into that twitching throat while glassy, tearing hazel eyes rolled back in absolute pleasure. Sam surrendered so beautifully, it was insane.

He held Sam down. Made the kid wait. Made him writhe with anoxia as his dick continued to  slide across wet leather no matter how dizzy he was getting.

“Gonna come for me, Sammy?”

He pulled Sam up, two breaths, one deep kiss, and then back down. Wet heat on his oversensitive dick, but Sammy needed this.

“Yeah you are, aren’t you. I can fucking see it. You’re so close.”

He only had to pull Sam up two more times. Four breaths, and a couple of expletive laden compliments all it took to have him come all over Dean’s right foot.

“You went looking for attention, baby, and it found you.”

Sam giggled, sliding off of Dean’s lap to lie in a delirious puddle of tied and loose limbs. 

Dean reached down to wipe one of the bigger blobs of come off of the toe of his boot, smearing the still warm goop across Sam’s tearsteaked face. Off to the side, Cas grunted, and Dean knew he’d just come too. 

The guy liked to appear straight laced, but he had a thing for making a mess. 

But Sam came first now. The rope had to come off, and then a shower before he shoved the kid in his bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ryugarika.tumblr.com/) ... feel free to, I can take it.
> 
> Comments feed me!
> 
> Check back tomorrow, for ... lactation and toys! (edit) super dark clouds! Bring a coat!


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